“The Doms’ll send ships! More men!” Sir Humphries barked desperately.
“No, sir,” Jenks gently assured. “Our air power has sunk or burned the bulk of the enemy fleet at Norwich Bay on King James Island. He has nothing left there to send.”
“But… what of the murderers to the east, just across the isle, that threaten us here in Elizabethtown?”
“We pounded ’em all day from the air, while the garrison”-Orrin nodded at Alexander-“kept ’em pinned on the beach with nowhere to go. It was like shootin’ fish in a barrel, poor bastards. They’re in the same boat as those up north: quit or croak.”
“They might slip men across under cover of darkness!” Humphries insisted.
“They could, a few,” Orrin agreed, “but then they’d be stuck too. If I was them, I’d try to pull my people out in the dark.” He paused. “But that’ll be tough. We control the strait between the islands, with DDs and searchlights-”
“DDs?”
“Frigates,” Jenks said. “Mr. Reddy is right. In a few days, there will not be a free-or live-Dom on Albermarl, and more of our troops and ships will be coming all the time. Soon, this island will fairly shudder beneath the weight of the force we will build to invade the Dominion itself and destroy the murderous threat it poses forever!”
“Extraordinary!” Humphries said with a trace of his old cheer at last. He peered intently at Orrin. “You are a… rider… of flying machines?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You have flown over this isle? And King James Island, perhaps?”
“Ah… yes, sir.” Orrin decided not to mention he’d been shot at the first time.
“Amazing! To see the world as a bird-or those horrible Dom dragons see it… I can only imagine.” He took a gulp of brandy, suddenly excited. “Did you happen to see any tortoises at all?”
CHAPTER 24
March 25, 1944
Rocky Gap
General-Queen Protector Safir Maraan, her silver-washed armor dented and tarnished, her black cloak torn and stained, stood in her command tent, staring down at the map before her. She wasn’t really looking at it anymore; the image was intimately familiar, and besides, she could hardly see through the kaleidoscope of amber tears colored by the guttering lanterns. Colonel Billy Flynn had saved her tail in the Saa-lon highlands and had since become an excellent friend. Now he was dead, along with nearly all the Marines, Rangers, and Sularans that had been with him-and there’d been nothing at all she could do. She’d been stuck here in this useless Rocky Gap for more than a week now, her own troops dying in front and behind while supplies and munitions dwindled. She looked into the east, through the open tent flap, where the Sacred Sun would rise above the high crags and bathe the gap with light, and said a silent prayer for Flynn and his lost command.
Somewhat selfishly, she thought, she also said a prayer of thanks that her beloved Chack-Sab-At was safe in Maa-ni-la, working up his new elite force instead of in this bone-grinding pit. She feared she might have lost him too if he’d been here-perhaps with Billy Flynn. The 2nd Marines had been Chack’s, after all.
“Maker preserve him. Preserve us all,” she murmured at the first graying streaks in the eastern sky.
A knock came against the tent pole, discreetly beside the flap. “They are here, my gener-aal,” said a low voice. It was almost unnaturally quiet outside, Safir realized. Ammunition was low, but the Grik were not short. They were shifting their forces, she knew, but she hadn’t expected the silence.
“I am coming,” Safir replied. She took a breath and stepped outside.
Colonel Enaak, commander of the 5th Maa-ni-la Cavalry, stiffened to attention at the sight of her. Another trooper, one she knew well, fought against his exhaustion to stand straighter at his side.
“Cap-i-taan Saachic, reporting as ordered, Gener-aal.”
Without a word, Safir moved forward and embraced the trembling Maa-ni-lo, the tears finally spilling down and wetting the blue-black fur on her face. “Thank the Maker you are safe! When Colonel Enaak told me you made it through, I could hardly believe it. Come. Sit inside, and tell me what you saw. Orderly!” she said louder, “bring refreshment!”
“At once, my gener-aal!”
“Col-nol Flynn, all those we left behind, must be lost,” Saachic said miserably after a long gulp of seep-laced water. Safir had offered him a stool instead of a cushion because she didn’t want him to drift off to sleep. The small torture of the stool struck her as less cruel than waking him after his ultimate crash would be. “We were surrounded; no way out. Col-nol Flynn had a plan, but it didn’t work. He tried to save everyone…” Saachic was rambling, and Safir tried to focus his thoughts.
“ How did you get out?”
“Ahh… most of the Grik pulled away to reinforce some movement against you-” Safir looked meaningfully at Enaak. Now they knew where the sudden influx opposite their lines came from. The scouts had seen no approaching column. “And we tried to break through those that remained,” Saachic continued. “It might have worked- should have worked against the Grik we fought before, but these are not the same.”
Safir and Enaak nodded. They’d noticed that as well. Somehow, the Grik were finally becoming soldiers. Not all of them had… transformed, but enough had done so to keep them bottled up here, and their defense-a concept they’d all thought utterly alien to the Grik-was only growing stronger.
“The breakout stalled,” Saachic murmured. “The col-nol ordered what remained of my cavalry to make a run for it, carrying as many others as we could. His final effort… the sacrifice of all who remained, was…” He paused, glancing at Safir. Aryaalans and B’mbaadans were not followers of the prophet Siska-Ta. “It was a tale for the Sacred Scrolls,” he finished, almost defiantly.
Safir nodded. “I’m sure it was,” she assured him. “But having broken out, how did you make it here?”
“Eighty of our beasts, most wounded to some degree, survived until we reached the mountains north of here with the morning. Most carried two or three persons and there were almost two hundreds of us.” He stopped a moment, shaking his head and blinking uncertainty.
“Two hundreds?” Safir asked. Saachic had entered 2nd Corps’ lines with five riders. “Did you meet more Grik?”
“There were no Grik, but we could not find a pass. It was then that we met… other riders.”
Enaak stood. “Other riders! What other riders?” he demanded.
“I… I do not know, Col-nol Enaak,” Saachic replied. “I confess I was not entirely myself.” He held up his left arm. “I took a wound and there had been no time to dress it. A fever was upon me. You may ask others who were there, but the riders were hu-maans — some were, at any rate.” His blinking turned to confusion. “I think there were others; not human, but not like us. They rode upon creatures I have not seen; like me-naaks, but with… horns? Their mounts and ours did not like each other.” Saachic’s tail swished in consternation. “I am sorry. I cannot recall much more about them.”
“Perhaps you can,” Safir prodded. “You say you ‘met’ them. What did they do? What did they say? How many were they, and why were they there?”
Saachic appeared to concentrate. “I think they were of like numbers to us. There was one, a large hu-maan with a great face mane who spoke a kind of rough English.” Saachic grew more animated as memory returned. “I think I asked him if he was Amer-i-caan-someone did-and he laughed.” He shook his head. “I remember nothing more but events and impressions. I believe they had been watching our battle; they knew of it, at least. They must be from a land beyond Grik control, but they clearly know much of this one because it was they who showed us the high, winding pass that brought us through to General Aalden.”
“General Aalden?” Safir exclaimed. There’d been no direct communications with Maa-draas for two days, not since the comm ’Cats and their aerials had been driven from the heights. Some notes had been dropped by planes, and she knew Aalden was trying to reach them-but she also knew the Grik fleet was coming and a major offensive was grinding at Aalden and Rolak from the south.